b and w

6. is this home

♀

i come to yelling. lots and lots of yelling. there is someone else in the room with my mother. he doesn't look pleased. of course it's not my father, though. he would never come home according to my mother. "you never told me about her!" the man yelled. his voice was loud. my mother shouted back a "you didn't give me the time!" and the rest was silence.

i thought i heard a slap. but i just-couldn't-go into that room. i was already broken enough. i knew my limits. and what had this woman ever done for me? without her, i wouldn't be here in this world, and at this point, that seems pretty luxurious.

at school the next day, the boy is whispering to someone in the hall. it's a girl. her name is ophelia. she looks at me as he speaks to her, and i pull my hood over my face and walk away. he must see she's better than me. superior. confident. and i am none of those. but when he's finished talking; he taps my back.

tap. tap. tap. he looks at me, in my eyes. pulls down my hood. i wonder if this will, become a routine. he smiles, and i can feel the corners of my lips curve upward, but i force myself not to grin. why waste happiness on me? the boy looks behind him. the girl, ophelia, nods. he steps closer. i step back.

there's something about being this close to him that makes me. . .nervous. maybe even scared. like i shouldn't be here in the first place. but my experiences with people have been somewhat limited, and when they do come up, it's usually with my mother. and that's never pretty.

"i'm connor," he says. he looks at me. I frown. his name doesn't satisfy me... it doesn't roll of my tongue, his tongue, like i'd want. i guess i thought when i'd hear him he'd be the prince to this damsel, but maybe not. maybe i'm just not a princess. he raises an eyebrow. i pull my hood back down.

"grace." i say. and with that, i walk off, trying to keep myself from looking back—because isn't that what you're supposed to do?